Heartache
by NorthernLight16
Summary: Heartache can be cured, slowly, yes, but it can be fixed. That is more of the type of situation where you sit on your couch for a couple weeks watching horrible sappy chick flicks and eating cartons of Ben and Jerry ice cream, a box of Kleenex beside you.


A/N: Characters not mine. Written for the challenge Heartache. Written by LSMunch.

* * *

When idiots fall in love, heartache is inevitable. It's true. Think about it. Idiots, by definition, are extremely foolish or stupid. (Take your pick.) And when they fall in love, this foolishness and stupidity is enhanced ten fold, at the very least. Because when two hearts get that close to each other, a feeling of invincibility overcomes the owners of those hearts. Nothing can hurt because when you love each other so much, nothing can possibly hurt.

Well, the truth is, it hurts more. That feeling of invincibility is just that, a feeling. You're not actually invincible. In fact, you're crippled and prone and an easy target. Such an easy target that the very person you love more than anything is the very person who can hurt you most.

I, being the idiot, had done it yet again. I had hurt the woman I loved. This time, however, was different because this time it was real.

All the other times (and let me tell you, there were quite a few) were fake. The love was, the relationship was, everything was. Including the jewelry. What? You think I could actually afford all that gaudy crap they wanted draped around their necks and on their wrists and pulling their ears down so that they resembled an elephant? The point is, all of it was fake, including the love. So when we fought, when I supposedly broke their hearts, I was really only trying to kill said elephant, who by this time was a stampeding elephant, with my nine millimeter carry. It just wasn't going to cause that much damage.

But this time... I was using my nine mill on a mouse that was strapped to a target about two feet away. No way in fucking hell I could miss.

Which was exactly the problem.

Back to the definition of 'idiot'. Stupid and foolish, remember? Think they're invincible when they are truly in love? They also think the person they love is invincible, too. And because of being stupid and foolish, they don't necessarily always realize when what they say or do hurts that person. It takes them a while to figure it out. And a while longer to fix it. If they can fix it.

I, being the idiot, had stumbled upon this very type of incident. I, being by definition stupid and foolish, had talked myself into a hole. Quite a deep hole. She was angry, predictably, and hurt, the latter of which she tried to hide with the former. Thinking back, I suppose she didn't realize that the former was just an aggressive form of the latter. But whatever the case may be, she was hurt and I had caused it. And I felt like shit afterwards. That is, after the argument and slamming doors and more words and maybe even tears. If she cried, I didn't notice. Call me insensitive, but in my defense, I was in full idiot regalia, cavalry _charge!_

The words that had been exchanged swam through my head as I walked down the street, heading for the park, my hands dug deep in the pockets of my jacket. Most of the words I happened to remember were either curses or derogatory names said in the heat of the moment that my angry mind wouldn't let go. I still wasn't at the point of motion stopping realization. In fact, at that specific point, I was just glad I had remembered my jacket. It was cold out and as it was I had forgotten my hat and scarf. Luckily, I keep a pair of cheap dollar store gloves in the pockets of just about all my coats, just in case.

I got myself to the park and kept walking. More than a few joggers passed me, a few mothers with their children and a handful of couples that I tried desperately to avoid looking at. The anger was still there. _How could she react like that to something so innocently said? Must be a woman thing._ Women are always doing that, changing their minds about this and that and everything in between so that when you think you've finally got it right, you're in shit up to your eyeballs. It wasn't until later that I realized she wasn't that kind of woman. She didn't play games to mess with you, she played games to loosen up and not create more tension. Work caused enough of that.

Heartache is so inevitable when an idiot falls in love because he can't see straight. When an idiot truly falls in love, head over heels and all that cliché nonsense that just happens to be true, his mind, which is already a tad off is thrown even more off track. Life becomes a series of pretty songs and pretty flowers and pretty love. The ugly side of love, but the inevitable side, is forgotten. Then one day the ugly side pops up and they don't know what to do. So they stumble over themselves, or they just get angry and they forget that they're in love. That is precisely the instant when the hurt comes tumbling out. And heartache begins.

Now see, heartache and heartbreak are two separate and different things. The latter is when you can't fix it, when no amount of talking will make it better. That's the type of situation where you sit in utter misery and nothing is pretty and nothing ever will be as pretty as it was when you were in love. We are talking about the former. Heartache can be cured, slowly, yes, but it can be fixed. That is more of the type of situation where you sit on your couch for a couple weeks watching horrible sappy chick flicks and eating cartons of Ben and Jerry ice cream, a box of Kleenex beside you. Everything is a sad sort of pretty, not ugly and that is because there is still hope. And that is what makes the difference.

The presence of hope makes it heartache.

And for me and her, there was still hope.

Even if it did take three weeks of eating Ben and Jerry's to figure it out.

* * *

Believe it or not, I did just that. I sat on my couch and watched sappy chick flicks and ate Ben and Jerry's. Just minus the box of Kleenex. I didn't know what to do with myself. Like I mentioned earlier, all the other times were fake. This was real and I was at a loss for what to do. Every day was torture, sitting next to her, having her lean over to show me a file and breathing in her smell. And wouldn't luck have it that we got partnered for a case, one that required a couple late nights of her and me sitting in a dim squad room trying to catch a break.

Even then I didn't know what to do. With her sitting three feet away, I couldn't fucking figure it out.

But like we've established, I'm an idiot and I had fallen in love, which only magnified my idiocy.

I went home that first Friday, after first stopping at the little market down the street to pick up a couple cartons of Ben and Jerry's, and sat down on my couch and stared at the blank television screen. The walk in the park that day had eventually cleared my head, though it took until it was nearly dark for me to come to that motion stopping realization that I had unknowingly set out to find. I dragged my sorry sad self back to my apartment, which she had long since left, and proceeded to lay in my bed, staring at a dark ceiling, fully clothed.

Talk about being miserable.

That first weekend was spent watching whatever I could find on TV. This consisted on various movies on Lifetime and Women's Entertainment. Pathetic, huh? Well, when you fall in love and screw up, I'll be sure to snicker behind my hand, too.

The following two weekends were more of the same. But the third weekend, Sunday afternoon actually, I finished watching "Something's Gotta Give" with that crazy asshole Jack Nicholson. Even though I had nothing in common with his character, I felt like I was him. And God, did I hate myself. Real son of a bitch, doing what he did.

It was about then that I realized I was the son of a bitch that deserved to be publicly humiliated and maybe kicked a few times.

I also realized (at long last) what I needed to do.

* * *

I had practically run to her apartment building and was now standing outside slightly out of breath. About to press the button to buzz her apartment, I thought better of it and buzzed her neighbor instead. This really sweet old lady with an equally old dog that I volunteered to walk sometimes. Come to think of it, if Olivia and I couldn't fix it, I'm sure Mrs Hobbes would secretly be glad that I was single.

I shook my head as she buzzed me up. Good old Mrs Hobbes. I felt a little bad not even stopping and saying hello before marching into battle, but I couldn't risk her finding out. No clue what she might due if she thought Olivia and I were having trouble. Or if she found out it was my fault.

Bracing myself, I knocked on Olivia's door. "Who is it?" she called and I could tell she was in the kitchen.

"John."

Moment of truth. Would she open the door?

She did. Not very wide, but she did. "You could just call me if there's a case."

"It's not a case."

She looked at me, quiet. "Well, then, what is it?"

"Can I come in?"

She turned away and let the door swing wider open. I closed it behind me. "I just... came over..." _Damn it, John. You can be a strong, hotheaded idiot when you're fighting with her and hurting her, but when it comes time to apologize, you get tongue tied._

I tried again. "Liv, I'm sorry."

Her back was to me and she was standing in front of the table.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to..." My voice faded out and I said very quietly, "Hurt you. I didn't mean to."

She didn't say anything.

"Liv..."

Her shoulders slumped and her head dipped down a little. I took a tentative step forward and it wasn't until her hand went up to her face that I went the rest of the way. I put my hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry it took me so long." Her shoulders tensed a bit and I suddenly felt like crawling back to my apartment and sitting on my couch for another three weeks.

My hands fell to my sides, unsure of where to go. "I," I started and then faded back into silence. The way she was standing, her smell teasing me without knowing it... all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her neck, her now long hair around my head. My eyes slipped shut as I tried to think of what to say. I don't know how long we stood like that, inches from each other, unable to see the face of the other.

Her voice was soft and for a moment I believed that everything was all right and it had all been a dream. But only for a moment. "John." It sounded hurt and I squeezed my eyes shut, hating myself.

I don't remember her having turned around, but I felt her hand on my chest and my eyes opened again. They drifted down to her arm, her wrist, her hand tracing patterns on my sweatshirt. My eyes closed again, the hurt welling up, the sadness brimming on my eyelids.

Then her soft hand was wiping my eyes and her soft mouth was saying my name and I couldn't open my eyes. Silent tears that had come to my eyes never had the chance to fall as she brushed them away. I caught her hand and brought it down and held it to my heart.

"I'm so sorry, Liv. I just... I didn't... I'm an idiot in love with you."

"You're not an idiot."

Guess she had forgiven me. If only I could forgive myself.

"John, open your eyes." I did and she was smiling. It was a sad smile, but a smile.

"I love you." The words surprised me. I didn't even remember thinking them. They just... came.

"I love you, too, John."

"So you..." I faded out again as I thought of a better way to ask. "Did your heart ache?"

Her eyes fell jerkily from mine until she was looking at our hands on my chest. "Yes, I suppose it did."

"Mine did, too." A small smile came to my lips as I thought of something. "You know what I've been doing? Watching sappy love movies and eating Ben and Jerry's."

A snort of laughter came from her. "You're such a woman."

"Doesn't make me feel any less shitty. I shouldn't have said what I did. Serves me right. I sat on my couch for three weeks. Three weeks I could have been on your couch watching the same movies, 'cept it would have actually led somewhere."

She looked up at me again and her eyes let me know she would be all right. Heartache was inevitable, yes, but that's just one of the side effects of being in love with an idiot.


End file.
